


My Home Is Nowhere Without You (A timestamp for The Doors of Time)

by felisblanco



Series: The Doors of Time [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A timestamp for <a href="http://felisblanco.livejournal.com/856417.html">The Doors of Time</a> set between Part 1 and Part 2.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>“Everyone changes,” Jared says. He stands up and walks over to stand behind him, hands sliding onto Jensen’s shoulders. “I’m not the same kid you knew.”</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Jensen closes his eyes. Jared’s hands are warm, strong. So big. Jensen’s shoulders slump under the weight, tense muscles turned soft by the heat. He tilts his head back, just a little, and smiles when it comes to rest against Jared’s stomach. “Yes, you are,” he says softly. “You’re just taller.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	My Home Is Nowhere Without You (A timestamp for The Doors of Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/profile)[**petite-madame**](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/)'s [incredible art](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/15692.html) and therefor of course dedicated to her. :)  
>  She is doing a calendar project for 2011. And for January she chose The Doors of Time! Guys, her picture is AMAZING! I can't describe how I felt when I saw it. Honestly, I sat with my hand covering my mouth, eyes wide as saucers. God, it's so beautiful!  
>  Please, please, please go over to [](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/profile)[**petite-madame**](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/)'s post [here](http://petite-madame.livejournal.com/15692.html) (you have to select a size to see the whole thing properly, what is in the post is just a sneak peak), stare in awe and then leave her some gushing feedback. 
> 
> Title from [the song](http://www.sendspace.com/file/zm3jsg) by Herman Dune.

Jensen smiles, watching the notes scramble to get away. “You’re being silly. Stop it. It’s just music. Get back here, you loonies.”

Of course they don't listen.

‘Did you know Rach’s Third premiered right here in New York?’ he wants to tell Jared. ‘Over ninety years ago. Can you just imagine witnessing that? It must have been absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could have been there.’

Jared would reply with something like, ‘Well, I’m glad you weren’t because then you’d probably be dead by now.’ And they’d both laugh, Jensen fondly mumbling ‘Idiot’ at Jared’s self-satisfied grin. Jared loves making Jensen laugh. It’s...

“You play differently.” 

Jensen jumps. He doesn’t dare turn around, just raises his head cautiously to catch Jared’s reflection in the piano’s glossy surface, his heart speeding up the minute he does. “What?”

“From before you–” Jared stops, head ducking in embarrassment. “From before.”

Jensen lets his hands fall into his lap, fingers curling. “I do?” he asks even if he knows it’s true. Of course he plays differently. Everything is different. Everything.

“Yeah. It’s... I don’t know.” Jensen can feel Jared’s eyes burning the back of his neck. Shy, nervous. Worried. “Just different somehow.”

“Well, I am different.” 

He says it all matter of fact, like it doesn’t bother him. Like he doesn’t stare at himself in the mirror, wondering where he’s gone, the kid he was only a few years ago. ‘Who are you? Tell me. Because I don’t know who you are.’ 

“Everyone changes,” Jared says. He stands up and walks over to stand behind him, hands sliding onto Jensen’s shoulders. “I’m not the same kid you knew.”

Jensen closes his eyes. Jared’s hands are warm, strong. So big. Jensen’s shoulders slump under the weight, tense muscles turned soft by the heat. He tilts his head back, just a little, and smiles when it comes to rest against Jared’s stomach. “Yes, you are,” he says softly. “You’re just taller.”

Jared snorts. He spreads his fingers, thumbs stroking over the thin skin covering the blue veins on Jensen’s neck. Up, down. “I never used to do this,” he breathes into Jensen’s ear, lips brushing the earlobe. 

Jensen shivers. “No,” he chokes out. “You didn’t.”

“Or this.” 

One hand slides up Jensen’s throat until it’s cradling his jaw, tilting his face upwards. Jared’s lips are warm, and wet like he just licked them. It still shocks Jensen every time, kissing Jared. For a moment it feels like he can’t breathe; like he shouldn’t, even if he could. The whole world holds its breath with him, the warm spring breeze caught in the branches of the trees. Until Jared licks over Jensen’s lips and he parts them without even thinking, letting Jared in as his breath escapes. The angle is awkward, Jared’s palm on his throat is slightly suffocating but Jensen couldn’t care less. It’s like he’s floating in air. All he can feel is the warmth of Jared’s breath in his mouth and the gentle cradle of his fingers on the back of his neck.

“And I for sure didn’t have the slightest idea how to do this,” Jared whispers and pushes the piano bench back with Jensen still sitting on it. He flails in surprise, eyes springing open. He’s about to fall backwards when Jared fists his shirt, pulling him back in, holding him steady until he finds his balance again. 

“Easy there,” Jared says with a laugh and then he’s sliding down, pushing Jensen’s knees apart as he goes.

“Jared...” Jensen should stop him. He should. This is not how this should go. But... Oh God. Jared’s fingers are so warm, so gentle, so sure. Undoing Jensen’s belt, popping open the button, sliding down the zipper. “Jared. What are you...?”

Jared just laughs, making Jensen hitch his breath as hot puffs of air brush the sensitive skin of his cock. He looks down to meet Jared’s eyes, dancing with mischief. And then they fall closed, long eyelashes dusting his cheeks as he licks his lips and... 

Jesus!

If Jared’s hands weren’t circling Jensen’s waist, keeping him steady, he’d be on the floor now with a cracked skull and stars dancing before his eyes. He slams out his left hand, hitting the piano keys with a loud clang, damp fingertips slipping over cool ivory in search of purchase. Jared takes Jensen by the wrist, moving the hand to the top of his head. 

“Just hold on to me,” he says, breathless. “It’s okay.”

Jensen’s fingers carve through Jared’s long hair. Silky strands, damp at the scalp. He curls his fingers, feeling them catch hold, and tugs. Then sucks in his breath when Jared moans around his cock. 

Jared’s fingers dig into Jensen’s hip as he takes him deeper. And deeper. And... oh. 

Oh. Oh. Oh!

Jared pulls back, his laugh throaty. “Nuhuh, not yet. Come on.”

He pulls Jensen to his feet, catching him easily when he sways forward, legs like rubber. “Couch. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Trust me.”

“I do. I trust you. Anything. Anything you want,” Jensen blabbers, the words tripping over his tongue. “You can have it. Anything.”

“Just you,” Jared whispers. “I just want you.”

“Okay.” He lets himself be pushed back on the soft pillows, wide eyes gazing up at Jared looming over him. “Okay.”

Jared goes still. He licks his lips, pink tongue darting out. “Okay? You sure?”

Jensen nods, heart caught in his throat. “Yes.”

The couch dips from Jared’s weight, knees on either side of Jensen’s thighs, arms gating his head. Breath warm on his face. “Okay.”

Jensen closes his eyes. They’re kissing again, Jared’s long fingers framing Jensen’s face. They’re pressed chest to chest, groin to groin. Skin on skin. Jensen can feel Jared’s hard length against his hipbone, nothing between them but the thin cotton of Jared’s boxer briefs.

Yes. Yes, please. Oh God, Jared, please.

“I’ll be so good to you, I promise,” Jared murmurs, his voice trembling. “Won’t ever hurt you. God, Jensen, I l–”

“Jensen? Hey. You all right?”

Jensen opens his eyes. The room has gone dim, the last weak rays of a New York sunset sliding off the window pane. A couple of impatient stars are already twinkling on the ceiling. The sheet music to Rachmaninov’s Third rests across his knees, a few confused notes lingering behind, not brave enough to join the rest on their exploration of the room. 

Jensen swallows. His pants are uncomfortably tight. The ghost of Jared’s lips presses one last kiss to his as the warmth of Jared’s body withdraws. Jensen’s shirt is unbuttoned and the pale skin of his stomach breaks out in goosebumps. He feels cold. Alone. So, so alone.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, willing his loneliness to fall back, to hide behind what he hopes is a look of calm indifference. Rearranges the sheet music slightly on his lap, in order not to embarrass them both, before turning his head to look back at Chris where he stands in the doorway. Gives him a small smile. See, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.

Chris smiles back, eyes serious. “Thought I’d order us Chinese. You’re not allergic to anything, right? Cashew nuts? Shrimp?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No. No, I’m... I’m not allergic to anything.” He doesn’t know how to explain how his health works so he hasn’t, yet. Chris is still digesting the whole magic thing. It’s only been two months.

“Good. That’s good.” Chris shifts on his feet, the phone clutched in his hand. “You sure you’re all right?”

Jensen nods. Smiles again. “I just dozed off, that’s all.” He waves at the notes scattered around the room. “I’ll clean up, don’t worry.”

“I’m not your mom,” Chris dismisses. His eyes dart around, wide with wonders. Yes, definitely still digesting. His cheeks flush when he realizes Jensen is watching him. “Chinese it is then.”

He’s half out the door when he stops, back turned. “You can talk to me, you know. About... whatever.” The tone is casual, the voice dark blue with worry.

Despite everything Jensen can’t help smiling. He can just imagine that conversation. ‘So okay, I was just about to shove my hand down Jared’s pants...’

“I know,” he says out loud. “I promise, I’m fine. Just... daydreaming.” He hesitates but Chris still hasn’t turned around, his back offering immunity from prying eyes while his ears are ready to listen. “Guess it’s a bit of a downer, waking up to reality.”

Chris doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, “Not going away again, are you?” in a tight voice. “Because you promised.”

“No,” Jensen hastens to say. “It’s not like that. I just... I was thinking of Jared. I miss him.” 

Chris’s shoulders relax. He turns around, giving Jensen a sad smile. “Well, he’s bound to show up any day now, right?” he says good-naturedly. Like he actually believes it. Believes in Jared. In _them_. Which means Jensen must really look miserable because they both know Chris doesn’t. Not at all.

He lets it slide. Once Jared shows up Chris will see it was all true. Until then there’s no use wasting energy on trying to convince him. 

“Yeah. Any day now,” he says and somehow just saying it out loud makes him feel a whole lot better. He gives Chris a bright smile that turns into a grin when Chris blinks, dazed. “Until then I guess I’ll have to make do with your sorry ass.”

“Hey, my ass is spectacular,” Chris protests before quickly adding, “And off limits. Keep your gay hands to yourself, mister.” He still does a little shimmy as he walks out.

Jensen laughs softly to himself. He scoops up a handfull of notes off his stomach, chuckling as they crawl all over his hand like ants. “Come on, guys. I promise, if you come back I’ll just play the first part. Very gently. Oh c’mon. Don’t be such pussies.” 

Chinese, he thinks as he patiently waits for everyone to get back in their place. He’s not sure he’s ever had Chinese food. Not bought anyway. His mother sometimes made spring rolls. And noodles. Mac loved noodles. With chicken. He wonders if she still does.

He hums absently under his breath as he walks over to the piano, propping up the sheet music that still has a few notes reluctantly strolling across the pages. Not that it matters, it’s all in his head already, ready to slide down to his fingertips.

“This is for you, Jared,” Jensen murmurs as he sits down and raises his hands. “Wherever you are. This is for you.”

There’s no answer but that’s okay. There will be. Any day now.

fin

[Rachmaninov - Piano Concerto No.3 in D minor, op.30 - I. Allegro ma non tanto / Vladimir Ashkenazy, Bernard Haitink, Concertgebouw Orchestra(17:30) ](http://www.besserwiss.com/felisblanco/04%20-%20Piano%20Concerto%20No.3%20in%20D%20minor%2c%20op.30%20-%20I.%20Allegro%20ma%20non%20tanto.mp3)


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